


When the morning shines

by Minutia_R



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Dramatic Irony, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 09:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10088975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/pseuds/Minutia_R
Summary: Onni has had worse awakenings.





	

“Oh, you’re awake! That’s wonderful!”

Through slitted eyes, Onni sees Torbjörn hovering in the doorway, grinning his stupid grin. The Icelandic babble is harder to parse. He’s heard more Icelandic in the past month than his entire life before, but his sleep-fogged mind is slow to attach meaning to the words. It doesn’t really matter. His host doesn’t seem angry about the singed floorboards and bed in his guest room. Onni has had worse awakenings.

“You must be starving,” Torbjörn says. “What can I get you? Bread? Eggs? Tea?”

How long has he been out? In the dreamworld, the nights–days–pass in a blur. The owl has little concept of counting. He’s not in a hospital connected to feeding tubes, so it can’t have been too long. “Tea,” he grunts. Tea is safe. “Thank you.”

Torbjörn goes, leaving Onni alone with the thick comforter, the warm afternoon sunlight pouring in through the room’s small window, the faint smell of burning that still lingers in the air. It brings back a memory, formless but intense, the moment of ecstatic union …

There are footsteps in the hallway. Too soft and light to be human. Bosse gives a cautious sniff, comes to a conclusion, pads over and hops onto the bed, onto Onni’s lap. He’s warm and heavy, a sleek, well-fed Swedish cat. When Onni runs his fingers through his long fur, he rumbles, low and resonant.

Siv appears in the doorway, a mug in her hands. He takes it from her, careful not to disturb Bosse, savoring the steam and the smell as she pulls over a chair to sit next to the bed. It’s not the thin stuff he was expecting, brewed so many times that it’s mostly the color that distinguishes it from water. He takes a sip, and the flavors of warm, rich earth hit his throat.

“How are you feeling?” says Siv.

“I’m all right. There’s no need for concern.” She brought him real tea. She didn’t need to. They didn’t need to do anything for him, but they have. He takes another long swallow to hide the prickling of his eyes.

“Well if you need anything else …” Siv trails off. “Torbjörn is trying to raise the crew on the radio right now. We’ll let you know when we make contact.” From downstairs, there are piping voices and a crash, and Siv winces. “Sorry, I’d better–”

“Go,” Onni tells her, and adds, “thank you.”

A rare smile tugs the corner of her mouth as she leaves. It changes her entire face.

Onni swirls the last of the tea around in the bottom of the mug. Trying to make it last. Trying to recapture the scraps of memory of the dream he’d had, the real one, just between the dreamworld and waking. A few impressions are all he has. A smile. Warmth. Fingers feathering along his scalp.

_I don’t think I can agree with that …_

The world is a terrible place. But there are moments of contentment in it even so, and this is one.

Downstairs, the radio crackles. Nothing but static.

**Author's Note:**

> Another one with a title from an [Old 97s song](https://youtu.be/lbcrQDCxdoc)! I'm not going to be able to get away with that for a fic exchange again, I fear.


End file.
